Treadmill
by Lyricism
Summary: When L's weight gain is brought to his attention, he decides to do something about it. LxLight.


Dedicated to Momosportif and Mani Clover, because without you guys this wouldn't have made its way onto paper. Be proud. :D You influenced my first Deathnote fic.

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For as long as L could remember, he loved sweets. Every day, an insatiable craving for cake, cookies, ice cream, and other things of that nature plagued his consciousness, and every day he was more than happy to give in to the addiction. What did he have to lose? His high metabolism kept fat from accumulating onto his lank frame, and as long as one used their mind regularly, one would not get heavier.

Or so he though. The first time any change in his physique was brought to his attention, it was casual, almost lackadaisical, as his assistant Watari tried to pick him up off of the floor to coerce him to stop watching the Kira tapes and come to get something to eat: "Ryuuzaki, have you gained weight?" At first, the exclamation seemed completely irrational. L? Gain weight? No, of course not. He used his brain more than anyone else he cared to associate with, and still had the metabolism of a child. He wouldn't be able to gain weight if he tried.

The second time anything was pointed out was a bit more intended: Matsuda, in all of his wisdom, poked L in the stomach and jeered, "Hey, Ryuuzaki, you're filling out! By this time next month, you might actually have some meat on you!" The genius shooed Matsuda's hand away brusquely, irritated by the facts that the police officer would even _think _of poking him and that he would be so disrespectful as to make a comment about something as meaningless as mass. Behind the irritation came a startling conclusion, nevertheless: if Matsuda, the least observant of the police force, noticed something as minute as weight gain, then it must have been obvious. He was getting _fat. _

As soon as the Kira investigation team left his hotel room, L picked his cell phone up between his thumb and forefinger, making a quick call. "Watari," he spoke into the receiver, "I need you to get something for me."

--

"Sir," his assistant chided, "I'm all for staying active and healthy, but isn't this taking it a little too far?" he asked, staring at the treadmill that L had just (painstakingly) assembled.

"Of course not," Ryuuzaki replied, stepping onto and turning on the exercise machine. "I must stay in top shape, because a strong body goes hand-in-hand with a strong mind, and you and I both know how important it is for me to have a mind working at optimum efficiency."

Watching as Watari left the room, his head shaking side to side, L began to jog on the conveyor belt. He hadn't confided in his public-relations manager the real meaning behind his newfound endeavor; that would have gotten the wonderful wellness contraption taken away. L knew enough about people in general to know that they did not particularly like those of larger proportion; they mocked and humiliated them instead. Light was no exception to this rule, since Ryuuzaki had seen him snicker as a rather bulbous man passed by the bench they were sitting on after their classes at the university.

If he allowed himself to become that, nothing but loss would come of it. Not only would he have to cut back on his daily sugar consumption, he would lose Light as a friend—his very first friend. There was no way that L would consciously let the strained yet existing bond he held with the younger man go down the tubes because of a simple weight matter.

Ryuuzaki continued running for the next couple of hours or so; if twenty minutes on a treadmill was good, then a hundred and twenty must be better. Unfortunately, he had not counted on his muscles being unprepared for the feat, and although they persisted far past their breaking point, the time came when his legs buckled from under him and the exercise machine threw him off and against the concrete wall behind it. Sighing as blackness engulfed his senses, L slumped over himself. This wasn't going as well as he had hoped.

--

Slowly blinking awake, L immediately entered a state of panic; this wasn't the hotel room. He wasn't on the carpeted floor of the makeshift headquarters, reviewing Kira-related information, surrounded by glowing computer screens and voice scramblers. This place was too well-lighted, too spacey, too furnished…and he was lying on a couch. He _never _laid on anything, due to the fact that he slept as little as possible. What kind of hell dimension was this?!

His terror subsided once he heard a familiar voice call to him. "Oh, Ryuuzaki, you're awake," Light said, striding by the couch and placing a compress on a large bump on L's head. "I was beginning to think that you died."

Relieved, Ryuuzaki took a deep breath to regain his normal stoic nature. "Why am I here?" he inquired, eyes following the other male as he sat down on a recliner a few feet away.

"Well, I left my wallet at the headquarters, and I went back to get it. When I got there, I found you passed out on the floor, so I brought you home to take care of you until you woke up," he answered, crossing his legs at the knee. "And here you are."

"Oh." Removing the compress from his head, L assumed his usual sitting position. "Light-kun," he began cautiously, "do you think I'm getting…fat?"

"Fat?"

"Yes, or at least gaining weight."

Light laughed long and hard at this. "No, not at all," he assured, covering his mouth as he stifled most of his chuckles. "Actually, I think you'd be better off with a few more kilos on you. It would make it harder for you to inadvertently starve yourself."

Better off with a couple more kilos? L brought his thumb to his lips as he pondered the gist of what he had just been told. Perhaps the rising weight would not be a problem after all.

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Yes, it was OOC. Yes, it was clichéd. No, I don't care. I have my muse back; I couldn't be happier. :3


End file.
